


No Returns or Exchanges

by CubbieGirl1723



Category: Veronica Mars (Movie 2014), Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blizzards & Snowstorms, Christmas Smut, F/M, Holidays, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Season/Series 03, THERE’S ONLY ONE BED, Veronica Mars Holiday Fic Grab Bag, fix it jesus, stranded in the airport
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-24 03:39:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17093342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CubbieGirl1723/pseuds/CubbieGirl1723
Summary: Christmas Eve in Iowa was about as far from Veronica’s plans as possible. But she also never expected to run into Navy Pilot Logan Echolls in an airport, either, so she figured she might as well embrace the odd twist of fate.





	No Returns or Exchanges

**Author's Note:**

> Based on Prompt 29–stuck in an airport due to a snow storm.

“But you don’t understand.” Veronica leaned against the ticket counter, her voice tinged with desperation. Her eyes were wide as she pushed her bedraggled hair off her forehead and adjusted her carry-on bag. “I have to get to California.”

The man behind the desk raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond. He merely pointed at the message flashing on all the TV screens around the airport. They normally showed arrivals and departures but now, all the flights simply read “Cancelled.”

“I can’t help you, lady. I wish I could.” He shrugged and she got the distinct impression that he wasn’t being honest; he didn’t really care that he couldn’t help anyone here. “My advice to you is that you go get your luggage and try to find a hotel room nearby. They’ll go quickly.”

“Ugh!” She allowed herself a huff of frustration as she pushed away from the counter and made room for the next person in line to harass the ticket agent. 

After pushing through the crowd, she flopped down into one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs lining the waiting area. Her boots were beginning to pinch her toes, the waistband of her black skinny jeans was digging into her midsection, and her once-straight, sleek bob was a mess. Traveling for Christmas was a nightmare. 

She had wanted to leave for California two weeks ago but a scheduling snafu at work had kept her in New York. She was sure she had put in the request for time off but her horrible boss claimed otherwise. She’d convinced herself that the chance to make a little more money was a good thing and had used the time to study but right now she was cursing the choices that had left her stranded in the airport on Christmas Eve in...she looked at the sign above the blank arrivals board. Clarinda, Iowa. She sighed. She was stranded in Iowa for Christmas instead of sunny, warm, Southern California because of a snow storm that suddenly dumped on the Midwest. Her flight had been delayed leaving LaGuardia but it had still taken off, only to be grounded at some tiny Podunk airport in Iowa. 

She sighed again—she figured she had earned it—and stood up, shouldering her bag and gearing up for baggage claim. At least two flights had been grounded here, she’d overheard, but she doubted this airport could handle too much traffic and she hoped it wasn’t much more than that. 

“Veronica?”

She turned at the sound of her name. The only person in the vicinity was a tall man in a khaki armed forces uniform. He was obviously not talking to her. She turned back toward the hallway to the baggage claim area. 

“Veronica! Veronica Mars!” She spun around. The man in the uniform was now several steps closer to her and was definitely yelling at her. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t—”

He scratched the back of his neck, brown eyes locking on hers, and she gasped. 

“Logan!”

The corner of his mouth quirked up in a small, lopsided smile—the same smile that had always made her stomach do somersaults still had the same effect—and she knew it was him but her brain was having a hard time catching up. 

“Wha? How? I don’t…” she continued to sputter as he closed the distance between them and enveloped her in a hug. 

It was a friendly hug, appropriate for adults, mostly arms and shoulders. It lasted just long enough for her to squeeze him and breathe in his familiar scent before he pulled away. 

“I don’t understand. What are you doing here?” Her mind was still reeling with the shock of seeing Logan Echolls in an airport in Iowa. 

He waved at the scene around them. “Visiting lovely Clarinda for the holidays, of course.” 

She laughed. It really wasn’t that funny but it had been six years since she had experienced Logan’s sarcasm, she was allowed to laugh too hard at him. 

His eyes twinkled. “My flight was grounded. Yours, too?”

He gently touched the small of her back, which sent a shiver through her as he gestured toward the hallway with arrows marking ‘Baggage Claim.’ She nodded and started walking in that direction. 

“Yeah, I was headed home for a visit.”

“From where?” 

“Um, New York, actually. I live in New York now.” At his raised eyebrows, she elaborated. “Columbia Law. Second year.”

Logan stopped in the middle of the busy airport hallway and stared at her, wide-eyed. “Law school? Columbia?”

She nodded, not sure if his reaction was positive or negative until a slow smile spread across his face. “Wow, congratulations, Veronica. I’m not surprised you got into Columbia, but...wow.” 

People were moving around them now, parting like a stream around a boulder. Someone swore at them for being in the way and she tugged his arm to move them over to the side, out of the pedestrian traffic. 

“And what are you wearing?” She tried her hardest to make the question not sound like a pornographic inquiry but Logan smirked anyway and ran his hand down his torso. 

“My uniform.” He radiated smugness. 

“Tell the truth.” She leaned it close to him and stood on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “It’s tear-away.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “US Navy regulation.”

Veronica’s mouth dropped open. She was having that moment again where the information she was being given just did not compute in her brain. 

“Did you steal that from a decorated military officer, Logan?”

He opened his coat and pointed at the name badge on his impressively muscled chest. It read ‘Lt. JG Echolls.’

She stared at it, her eyes fixed on the letters, trying to take in what it really meant. After a beat, she looked up at his smirking face. “Did you, Logan, did you join the Navy?”

He nodded. “I’m a fighter pilot, Veronica. Flying commercial is the worst.”

His quip didn’t even register. She stared into his eyes for another moment, her face full of wonder and pride. She probably would have continued to stand there, looking at Logan interminably, but a fellow traveler bumped into her, jostling her shoulder with his carry-on bag, causing her to stumble into Logan and breaking the spell. 

Logan caught her easily and helped her keep her balance. 

“I guess we should…” He jerked his thumb in the direction of the baggage claim and Veronica nodded. 

They rejoined the stream of humanity and followed the small crowd. The hallway wound around until the wide, open space of the baggage claim area became visible. The airport wasn’t very big but two of the four luggage carousels were spinning. Veronica turned to look for the carousel that contained her suitcase and Logan put his hand on her arm. 

“I’d really like to catch up with you, V. Do you think we could,” he faltered, obviously not sure what to suggest. Get a drink in this tiny Iowa town during a blizzard? Share a cab? Did they even have cabs here? 

Veronica didn’t know what to say either, but she nodded emphatically. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye to him yet. 

“How about we each get our luggage and then meet over there,” she pointed to the customer service desk, “and make a plan.”

He nodded, giving her that slow half-smile again. She could feel her pulse pick up and her body temperature definitely spiked a few degrees. It might be too obvious if she stripped off her leather jacket and started fanning herself. She didn’t know how Logan felt but obviously her body still had the same reaction to him as always—and that was just from his sexy smile. She would have to be careful or this snowstorm would cause her all kinds of trouble. 

Veronica gave him a tiny wave and went to watch the luggage from her flight moving past on the carousel. After wrestling her black suitcase off the conveyor belt, she joined the long line of people waiting to talk to the airline representatives. 

The hair on the back of her neck stood up as Logan came to stand next to her. He had a large rolling suitcase in one hand and a military-issue olive green sea bag slung over his shoulder. 

“What flight were you on?” she asked him. 

“Norfolk to L.A., then on to Hawaii.” At her questioning look, he elaborated, “I had some leave time accrued so Dick and I planned a surf trip.” He glanced down at his knuckles, turning white clutching the handle of his suitcase tightly. “Neither one of us is much into holiday traditions. Seemed like a good plan at the time.” He shrugged philosophically. “I wonder what the odds are of still making it?”

Veronica grimaced at him as the line moved and the frazzled woman at the help desk made an announcement. “There’s a form to fill out online for airline vouchers and a shuttle to take you to our hotels. You can call the airport tomorrow to check on the status of our flights.”

“Are there any cabs running?” Veronica called out. 

The crowd was silent, waiting for an answer, but the woman at the customer service desk pushed her brown hair out of her eyes and gave Veronica an odd look. 

“We don’t have any cabs here. We don’t actually have an airport shuttle, either; we borrowed one of the buses from the high school.” At the panicked looks from the crowd, she continued, “We don’t get a lot of flights in here, folks, but it’s Christmas Eve and we’re going to do our best to take care of y’all. The shuttle will take you to the hotel and from there you can order pizza or something. If we are operational tomorrow, the shuttle will bring you back.” 

Veronica swore under her breath. She heard other people in the crowd around the desk grumbling as well, but what could they do? Logan’s hand brushed against the small of her back. 

“Pizza?” he asked as she looked up at him. 

She nodded. “It’s a date.”

Pizza for Christmas Eve dinner in Iowa was about as far from Veronica’s plans as possible. But she also never expected to run into Navy Pilot Logan Echolls in an airport, either, so she figured she might as well embrace the odd twist of fate. 

The line moved forward and Veronica and Logan collected their paperwork from the stressed woman at the desk. She pointed the way to the ‘shuttle’ bus, and as the automatic doors opened, Veronica could see a yellow school bus proclaiming ‘Clarinda CSD.’

The snow was already thick on the ground and more was swirling in the air as they slowly made their way to the bus. Her cheeks stung as the wind whipped the snowflakes in the air and she wished for a proper jacket and scarf. Her leather jacket was perfect for Christmas in California but it wasn’t cutting it in an Iowa blizzard. Her little black boots also weren’t made for snow but at least she had chosen them over her canvas sneakers this morning. She stepped aboard and wrinkled her nose at the distinct school bus smell of diesel exhaust and vinyl seats. It was tricky to maneuver her luggage down the aisle but eventually she and Logan found an open seat at the back of the vehicle. 

“Just like high school,” he joked with her and nudged her shoulder with his as they sat. 

“Yeah, right.” Veronica rolled her eyes at him. “Like you ever had to ride the bus.”

“Okay, aside from that and the snow,” he gazed out the window at the bright expanse of whiteness, “it’s just like high school.”

“Just like.”

Veronica wanted to question Logan about everything that had happened in his life in the last six years, but the long day of traveling was catching up to her and she found herself dozing, her head against the cold windowpane. The bus ride wasn’t that long, even if they did go at a snail’s pace in the snow, and only ten minutes later, the bus pulled to a stop, forcing her to open her eyes. 

“Sorry,” she murmured to Logan as she tucked her bedraggled hair behind her ears. 

“No problem, Veronica.” He shifted in the brown vinyl seat to try to see better. 

“We’re at the back, it’ll be a while. Might as well stay put.”

She nodded and rested her head against the window again. She could see geometric patterns crystallizing in the frost on the window and she rubbed at it with her sleeve to try to clear it away, the condensation fogging her view. It made no difference, though—all she could see outside was snow. 

Finally, Logan stood up and pulled his suitcase along the bus aisle. Veronica followed, shaking off her stupor from her tiny nap. 

The cold air that hit her face when she exited the bus further served to help wake her up and she hurried after Logan into the hotel. In just the short ride here, the snowstorm had gotten even worse. 

They joined the line of airline passengers waiting to talk to the concierge at the front desk and used the time to catch up. Veronica learned that Logan had graduated from Hearst with a Physics degree—not what she would have guessed—and joined the Navy after that, although he said the story of why he enlisted would have to wait for later. 

She told Logan that she had graduated from Stanford and genuinely loved living in New York, that law school was hard, and that she hadn’t kept up her P.I. license. She tried to keep her emotions in check when he asked about that last one, his expression registering his surprise. She knew when she left Neptune and Hearst that she needed to make some changes and had decided to stop investigating. She tried not to let herself think about it too much, but the choice still hurt. 

It was at this point in the conversation that they finally reached the front desk. Like every customer service representative Veronica had encountered on this hellish trip, this man looked flustered. His thinning brown hair was messy and his wire-rimmed glasses were smudged. It had clearly been a rough day for everyone and Veronica tried to summon her last ounce of patience as she greeted him. 

“Hi.” She gave him a small smile. “I’d like a room, please. Whatever you have left is fine.”

“Um.” The man hastily turned to his computer screen and began typing. According to the badge on his shirt, his name was Phil. He kept shooting her surreptitious glances and typing frantically, then he peered around Veronica to glance at Logan standing behind her. 

Logan raised his eyebrows and gave him a tiny finger wave. 

“Ma’am, I’m afraid I have some bad news.” Phil nervously stared at his computer screen instead of meeting Veronica’s eyes. He pushed his glasses further up his nose. 

“I just gave away our last room.”

Logan stepped around her and pushed up to the desk. 

“Are you telling me that it’s Christmas Eve and the inn is full?”

Instead of lashing into Phil like she’d planned, Veronica guffawed. Logan’s eyes danced with merriment and she was deeply grateful; if she had to be stuck in Podunk, Iowa, with anyone, at least it was Logan Echolls. She had forgotten how much fun he was. 

Even Phil managed to crack a smile. “Yes, that’s what I’m saying. I’m terribly sorry. But,” his eyes lit up with a sudden idea, “I think I have a solution.”

He grabbed his desk phone and made a call, turning his back on them. Veronica looked around at her surroundings for the first time. The hotel lobby had cleared out and the small space was lit by a cheery fireplace and a decorated Christmas tree. Most of the stranded travelers were settled now and the only sign that the lobby had been full of people just a few moments ago was the melting puddles of dirty snow on the ceramic tile. 

She turned to Logan and really took him in for the first time. Despite her travel-rumpled appearance, his khaki uniform was still crisp under his jacket. His hair was shorter than she was used to, and maybe it was the uniform or his posture, but he looked taller than she remembered. There were faint crow’s feet by the corners of his eyes and he had filled out quite nicely since high school. 

The corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk and she realized he’d caught her staring. 

“Sorry.” She cut her eyes away. “I just can’t quite get over Logan Echolls, Navy pilot.”

His smirk deepened. “The technical term is Naval Aviator, ma’am.”

She rolled her eyes. “Never call me ‘ma’am’ again.”

Phil cleared his throat. “I know this isn’t ideal, but there is a bed and breakfast across town. I called and they still have room. I can even get one of my employees to drive you over there.”

He looked so earnest—Midwest hospitality apparently wasn’t a joke—and it wasn’t like there was a better option. Veronica looked at Logan and shrugged. 

“That’s very kind of you, sir.” Logan solemnly shook Phil’s hand and Veronica stifled a giggle, still marveling at all the changes in this new version of him. 

Phil seemed to notice Logan’s uniform for the first time. “Thank you for your service, I didn’t realize, I would have—”

Logan cut him off. “No special treatment, please.”

Phil nodded. “I’ll just go get my coat and drive you over there myself. My truck has four-wheel drive; I think we’re gonna need it.”

Phil disappeared from behind the desk and Veronica gestured to her suitcase. 

“Would you mind watching this for me? I’m gonna go freshen up.” She jerked her thumb in the direction of the restrooms off the lobby and Logan nodded. 

It wasn’t as good as a shower and a full-night's’ sleep, but the chance to wash her face and fluff her hair helped. A little bit of lipstick didn’t hurt, either. 

By the time Veronica made her way back to the lobby, Phil had pulled up in front of the automatic doors in a large black pickup truck, sporting Chicago Cubs and American flag bumper stickers. 

Logan was waiting for her at the door. He raised his eyebrows at the winter weather and turned up his collar to try to keep the still-swirling snow from creeping down his coat. He shouldered his bag and picked up Veronica’s suitcase before she could protest, then loaded it into the back of the covered truck bed. The snow was falling steadily and she’d guess there was more than eight inches on the ground already. 

She tried to wheel Logan’s suitcase over to him but the snow was too deep for the small wheels and it quickly got stuck. Veronica gave it a tug to try and hoist it up but her boots, made more for fashion than practicality, slipped in the wet snow and she landed on her bottom with a curse. 

Logan rushed to help her up, tugging on her arms. Her backside was sore and soaking wet. 

“Sorry, Bobcat,” he said with a grimace. “We’ll get you warm and dry in no time.” 

Before she could process the nickname he’d used, he boosted her up into the passenger seat of Phil’s tall pickup truck. Thankfully, it was warm inside the vehicle and the windshield wipers and the defroster were working hard to clear the windows. A moment later, Phil and Logan climbed in the truck, one on each side of her. 

“So, where you folks from?” Phil asked, peering out the snowy windshield. 

“California,” Logan answered and it was easier for Veronica to just nod as well. 

Phil looked like he wanted to chat more, but navigating the treacherous roads took all of his attention as he hunched, white-knuckled, over the steering wheel. 

Logan seemed content to sit in silence as well, drawing patterns in the condensation on the window and staring at a very white Clarinda. Veronica just wiggled in the tiny jump seat and tried not to think about her wet and cold backside. 

After creeping across town, Phil pulled up in front of a sprawling Victorian-style house set back from the road. It was white with brick columns and a tall Christmas tree was visible in the front window. A sign hanging from a cheery lamp proclaimed it to be the ‘Colonial White House B&B.’

“Here we go!” Phil pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose and hopped out of his truck to help with their luggage. 

Logan helped Veronica out of the tall truck, this time avoiding any icy patches, and after she grabbed her bag, they made their way up the shoveled walkway to the welcoming front door. 

Phil held the door open for them and stepped in behind Logan. A young man who looked to be in his mid-twenties loped down the stairs and gave them a smile, pushing his shaggy brown hair out of his eyes. 

He held out his hand to Logan for a shake. “Hi. I’m Matt. My wife and I own the B&B here. Thanks to Phil’s call, I saved the last room for you two.”

Veronica and Logan both spoke at once. 

“Oh, no,” she began, as he said, “We’re not together.”

They exchanged an awkward glance as Phil blanched. 

“But you said...you were in line together...you’re both from California…” He stumbled over the words and finally trailed off. 

Matt adjusted his thick-framed glasses. “I’m really sorry, but I just gave away our last room. Phil said you only needed one.”

“It’s okay. Really.” Veronica rushed to explain. “We’re old friends.”

She quickly glanced at Logan and his decisive nod let her know it was okay. At this point, she really didn’t care about anything besides changing into dry clothes. 

“It’s no big deal,” Logan assured them. 

“I’m so sorry, I just really thought you were a couple.” Phil seemed determined to keep making it awkward. 

Veronica didn’t know what to say. ‘Well, we used to be but haven’t spoken in six years?’ That didn’t seem like the sort of response that would help the situation so she kept her mouth shut and gave Phil a tight-lipped, pained smile. 

Logan took off his coat and turned to Matt. “Could you show us to the room? And maybe find the number for pizza delivery? I’m starving.”

“Oh, yeah, sure. Right this way. Thankfully the pizza’s close so you can probably still get delivery.” Matt pointed up the staircase and Logan shook Phil’s hand and thanked him for the ride. 

“Just call the airport tomorrow morning. We’ll get transportation sorted out later. Merry Christmas, folks.” Phil pulled a woolen ski cap over his mused brown hair, waved, and headed through the front door back out into the snow. 

Veronica sighed and heaved her suitcase up the stairs, following after Matt. She was regretting her decision to over-pack but she hadn’t yet mastered flying with just a carry-on. Maybe this trip would finally break her of that habit. 

The wooden stairs creaked as Matt’s heavy boots clomped up the narrow passageway. He turned right at the top of the stairs and led them down a low-ceilinged hallway—she thought Logan might have to duck—lit brightly by old fashioned sconces on the wall. 

She realized Matt was narrating, telling them the history of the house. “This place was built in 1897 and then refurbished over time by various owners. My wife’s parents bought it in the ‘70s and we took over the management a year ago.”

He stopped at the end of the hallway, producing an ornate key on a large ring and unlocked the door on their left. 

“The good news is that the most recent renovations include en suite bathrooms.” Matt opened the door with a flourish. 

Veronica stepped inside the tiny room. It had green and mauve floral wallpaper, a polished hardwood floor, and two windows draped with white lace curtains. There was just enough room for a full-size bed and a white marble fireplace in the corner, but not much else. She barely even had room to wheel in her suitcase. 

“The bad news,” Matt continued sheepishly, “is that the bathroom renos seriously diminished the size of the bedrooms. I’m sorry there isn’t a couch in here or anything.”

“It’s fine.” Logan set his suitcase down next to hers, blocking the door, and waved away Matt’s concerns. “Do you have any extra blankets I could use, though?”

“Oh, yeah, sure. Of course.” He disappeared back down the hallway. 

“I don’t mean to be rude, but my butt is freezing. I’m just gonna…” Veronica grabbed her suitcase and jerked her thumb in the direction of the bathroom. 

Logan nodded. “Good call. I’ll work on getting us some dinner.”

The lure of a hot shower proved too tempting and while she was just initially going to change into dry clothes, she ended up luxuriating in the hot water, enjoying finally washing off the grime of travel. 

She emerged from the bathroom thirty minutes later, feeling clean and comfortable in black yoga pants, fuzzy Christmas socks, and a tight maroon zip-up hoodie over her white tank top, letting her hair air dry in loose waves. 

Logan was stretched out on the bed with his hands behind his head. He’d taken off his shoes (they were lined up perfectly at the foot of the bed) but was still wearing his uniform. She couldn’t wrap her mind around this staid, mature version of Logan. In a Navy uniform, no less. 

His eyes popped open when he heard her and the familiar smile that she loved so much spread across his face. At least some things never changed. Her stomach did its customary flip in response. 

She tentatively sat, cross-legged, on the foot of the bed. He scooted up a bit on the pillows to see her better. 

“You’re welcome to freshen up, if you want.” She gestured in the direction of the steamy bathroom. 

Logan nodded but closed his eyes. “I called Dick and broke the news to him. He pretended like he didn’t care, but I’m still hoping I can meet him in Hawaii soon.”

“I’m kinda surprised that you’re still friends with him.” 

His eyes popped open, questioning, but he didn’t stir. 

“It’s just, this new Logan,” she paused and waved her hand, encompassing the uniform and the Navy, “It doesn’t really fit with what I remember of Dick.”

He gave a tiny shrug. “He’s changed. I’ve changed. But he’s still all I’ve got.”

That stung. Veronica felt a pang of guilt for the way she’d treated Logan when she left Neptune all those years ago. She twisted her hands together nervously. 

“Logan, I—”

He sat up and patted her arm. “I’m gonna go take a shower. I should be out before the pizza gets here.”

“Wait.” She stood up and paced around the very small space between the fireplace and the bed. “I need to say this.” 

Veronica took a deep breath and stopped, meeting his eye. 

“Logan, I owe you an apology. No matter what had happened between us, I never should have just left like that and ignored your calls. It was cowardly of me.” She gulped, “And a really crappy thing to do to a friend. I’m so sorry.”

He stood up, moving close to her and gently placing his hand on her cheek, staring back at her intently. 

“It’s okay, Veronica. I mean, yeah, it really hurt at the time, but eventually I realized that you went through just as much shit as I did and we never really dealt with it. If you had to get out of Neptune to figure it out,” he shrugged, “I understand. I had to join the Navy. Maybe we both needed extreme solutions.”

He traced his thumb along her cheekbone and she had to clench her teeth to keep from trembling. 

“So are you going to tell me that story tonight?” 

Logan allowed her the subject change and dropped his hand to his side. 

“Yep. Over pizza. But first—a shower.”

He rummaged in his seabag for his Dopp kit and some clothes, tossed her a wink, and disappeared into the bathroom. 

With a sigh, Veronica grabbed her cell phone out of her purse and dialed her dad’s number, flopping on the bed. This was a call that she really wasn’t looking forward to making. 

——

After breaking the bad news to her dad—and heavily implying that she was in a hotel room by herself—she rummaged in her suitcase for the bubble-wrapped bottle of wine from her favorite local place that she’d lanned on gifting her dad. It wasn’t expensive but she liked it and thought he’d like something from New York. At this point, though, he’d just have to be content with her presence. After the Travel Day From Hell, she definitely deserved a glass of wine. 

Just as Logan emerged from the bathroom—she told herself that her mouth was watering from hunger and not the sight of him with wet hair in grey jersey pants and a tight blue t-shirt proclaiming ‘Property of the U.S. Navy’—the phone on the wall rang, letting her know that their pizza had been delivered downstairs. Logan hastily threw on socks and padded off to get it. 

He returned a couple of minutes later with a large pizza box, paper plates and napkins, and the enticing aroma of cheese and sausage. 

Veronica’s stomach audibly growled and he laughed. 

“Calm down, I’m feeding you.” He directed the words to her belly. 

“I found a special treat for us.” She held up the bottle of wine by the neck and waved it proudly, but then looked around as it dawned on her what was missing. 

“But no glasses. I can—”

Logan shrugged and cut her off. “Not the first time I’ve drunk straight from the bottle. I don’t care if you don’t.”

A memory flashed in her head of Logan gulping champagne from the bottle on the beach as they played ‘I Never’ sophomore year of high school. So much had happened since then. At one point the bittersweet memory would have made her sad, but now she just smiled softly as she crossed her legs under her and settled into the surprisingly comfortable mattress. 

“Sounds perfect.”

Logan set the pizza box on the bed and held up a ‘wait one minute’ finger. Veronica watched his antics, amused. After handing her a paper plate and extra napkins (he knew her well), he rummaged in his suitcase and pulled out a red Swiss Army knife, complete with a tiny corkscrew. 

“Be prepared, Mars.” He easily opened the bottle of red wine. 

She shook her head at the smug look on his face. “I’m pretty sure you were never a Boy Scout.”

“I might have been if I’d understood the allure of the uniform back then.” He waggled his eyebrows and stretched out across from her on the bed. 

She stiffened, thinking about all the women that must throw themselves at him now. And it wasn’t like they were in short supply before, either. 

Logan grabbed a piece of pizza and took a bite, but then saw her face. 

“Veronica, what’s wrong?”

“I just…” She stumbled over her words and set her pizza back down on her plate, untouched. “I hope I’m not getting you in hot water with a girlfriend, sharing a room and all. I didn’t think—”

He cut off her protests. “There’s no girlfriend for you to worry about.” 

He raised an eyebrow and she realized that she was supposed to provide information in kind. 

“Oh, yeah, me neither.” 

Her appetite made a recurrence after learning that Logan was single. She took a bite of pizza and swallowed before defaulting to her favorite avoidance tactic: she changed the subject. 

“So how long has it been since you’ve been back to Neptune?”

Logan took a bite and wrinkled his forehead. “Like, for a visit? Probably not since graduation. Dick has come to see me a few times, though.”

“Where all have you lived since graduation?”

“Um, mostly Florida, Texas, and now Virginia.” He swallowed. “You?”

She took a sip of wine from the bottle and handed it to him. “My academic path took a little longer than planned. Almost none of my credits transferred from Hearst so I basically started over as a freshman at Stanford. Then I spent a year clerking for a law firm in San Francisco. I’ve been in New York for a year-and-a-half now and I have about that much more to go at Columbia. Then I’ll study for the bar and...we’ll see after that.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Pretty impressive, Mars.”

She blushed and looked down at the pizza box, grabbing another piece. 

“Not quite as impressive as flying fighter jets. I’m no expert but I’m pretty sure that’s not an easy career path.”

Logan huffed out a breath. “No, I guess it’s not.”

She eyed him over the wine bottle as she took another sip. “So how’d you go from trust-fund beach bum to flyboy?”

He set down his half-eaten slice of pizza and sat up on the bed, running a hand along his short hair. 

“Veronica,” he paused, “The thing is…” 

She realized he was stalling. 

“Hey, it’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” 

Pushing Logan to reveal his secrets had never gone well for her in the past. Spending time with him again was making her realize how much she’d missed him and she was willing to do things differently this time around if it meant she got to keep him in her life. 

“No, I want to tell you. I’m just not sure you’re going to like this story.” He stared at a spot on the quilt instead of meeting her eyes. 

“How about you tell me and let me decide?” Her tone was gentle, reassuring, and eventually he looked up at her and nodded. 

“Okay.” He took a deep breath. “I was in a pretty bad place for a while after you left. I’m not blaming you,” he rushed to explain, “it’s just that I didn’t have a lot of positive influences in my life. There was a long time—too long—where I made decisions based on what you would think of them.”

His eyes were bright with emotion. She wanted to interrupt, to tell him that she wasn't a worthy standard, but she swallowed down the words and just listened. 

“I later realized that it was too much to put on another person. I needed to figure some things out for myself. But first,” he cleared his throat and played with a string on the quilt, “I kind of spiraled out of control. I overdosed.”

His words hung in the air and she squeezed his hand reassuringly, tears clogging her throat. She could have lost him. 

He took another deep breath and continued. “It was a good wake up call, though. I know the Navy seems like the exact opposite of what I would have picked for my life—but maybe that’s why it works for me. What I was doing certainly wasn’t working. I needed a totally different path.” He shrugged. “I like it. I like the challenge, the framework, the guys in my squadron, the uniform.” 

He waggled his eyebrows at her and Veronica laughed. 

“And flying—Veronica, it’s amazing. It’s seriously worth everything it took to get here.” 

His eyes took on a dreamy quality and she squeezed his hand again. 

“That’s...that’s great, Logan. I’m really happy for you.”

His eyes snapped back into focus. “And law school—you really like it?”

Veronica shrugged but didn’t let go of his hand. He entwined his fingers with hers. “There are things I like about it. It’s a means to an end.”

He nodded and took another bite of pizza. “I get that.”

Veronica finished her dinner and reluctantly let go of Logan’s hand to clean up the remains of the pizza. She probably should be ashamed that they’d just eaten an entire large pizza between them, but she wasn’t. 

She looked around the tiny room and at the tiny wastebasket and eventually decided to stash the empty pizza box under the bed for the time being. She had just shoved it under there when everything went dark. 

The silence was what struck her first—no ticking clocks, no humming radiators, no background noise. Just silence. 

Logan cleared his throat. “You okay?”

“Yep.” She was standing by the bed, waiting for her eyes to adjust when the silence was broken by voices in the hallway. 

She shuffled to the door and opened it, peering out into the darkness. 

“No need to worry, folks.” Matt bustled down the hallway, carrying tinder box and a flashlight. She realized other guests had ventured into the hallway, trying to figure out what was going on. 

“The blizzard has knocked out the power,” he explained, “but I’m just gonna start fires in all the fireplaces and then you’ll have heat and light.” 

Whistling ‘Jingle Bells,’ he went into the room across the hall. Veronica left their door partway open and, after feeling around carefully for it, flopped down on the bed. 

“Well. This has been one of those ‘Murphy’s Law’ type days, huh?”

She couldn’t see Logan’s face in the darkness, just the shape of his body sitting on the bed. 

“Oh, I don’t know.”

She snorted derisively. 

“I can think of a lot of things that could make this worse,” he continued. 

Veronica gasped, fake-shocked. “Logan Echolls, don’t tell me you’ve turned into an optimist.”

The bed shook with his laughter. “God, no, nothing like that. I think I must be experiencing Christmas Cheer or something. I should be mad that I’m stuck in Iowa instead of on my way to Hawaii...but I can’t bring myself to be sad about running into you, Veronica.”

She knew he couldn’t see it, but she smiled into the blackness. 

“Knock-knock,” Matt pushed open the door. The beam from his flashlight momentarily blinded Veronica and she held up her hand, shielding her eyes. 

“Sorry.” He pointed the beam at the fireplace. “I’ll just get to work building this fire. Could one of you…?” 

He held the flashlight out and Logan took it, holding it so Matt could work. He kept up a steady stream of chatter—mostly about the weather and the road conditions—as he quickly got a fire going in their fireplace. 

“There.” He held his hands proudly in front of the blaze, warming them. “Bank it before you go to bed. I’d also advise you to keep all the doors closed to keep the heat in. You already have extra blankets,” he jerked his thumb at the pile of blankets in the corner that had appeared in the corner while she was in the shower, “so you should be set. The phones are out, but if you need anything, we live down on the first floor. You can always come knock on my door.”

“Thanks, man.” Logan shook his hand again and Matt pulled the door shut behind him when he left. 

Veronica eyed the pile of blankets in the corner. “Logan, I’m not letting you sleep on the floor.”

He was standing at the foot of the bed by the fireplace, arms crossed over his chest in a way that displayed his muscles to his advantage. His pose was natural, normal, but so still and confident. She was struck once again by the fact that Logan had grown up. 

“I’ve deployed before, Veronica. Months on end squeezed in a tin can like sardines. That floor space there,” he gestured, “is roomier than what I’m used to. Probably more comfortable, too.”

She could hear in his voice that he was joking, but:

“You’ve deployed? Where? Was it dangerous?” 

Her heart rate picked up as the full implications of his job began to hit her. 

The teasing look fell from his face and he took a step closer to the bed. “Um, I can’t really tell you.” 

“Oh.” Her voice was flat. 

“It’s not like that,” he hurried to explain. “It’s military classified stuff.”

She nodded and settled on the bed, trying to get more comfortable. 

“Right. Yeah. I get it. So what’s it like, living on a submarine?”

“Well, first off, I'm on an aircraft carrier, Veronica, not a submarine. No jokes about seamen, please.” 

He wagged his finger at her and flopped down next to her on the bed and laced his fingers behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. She watched the light from the fire dance over the sharp planes of his face. 

“It’s...it’s actually kind of crazy. The carriers are huge, almost like their own little floating city. At first I got ridiculously lost all the time. But then, I dunno, I just figured it out.” 

The fire was only warming one side of her body and at this point in his narrative, Veronica shuddered with cold. The temperature in their room had dropped considerably. Logan noticed and immediately jumped up, grabbing the blankets from the pile on the floor. 

“Hey, c’mere. Let’s get you warmed up.” Logan wrapped one of the blankets around her like a cape and urged her to come sit closer to him on the bed. He pulled back the covers and tucked her in with him, still sitting up, and wrapped his arms around her until the shivering stopped. 

“Tell the truth.” Her tone was playful. “You planned the power outage so we’d have to huddle for warmth.”

“You got me, Mars. Guilty as charged.” He placed a soft kiss on the top of her head. 

Veronica unwrapped herself from the blanket so she could wrap Logan in her cocoon as well. His strong arms held her flush against his warm chest and she marveled at the knowledge that his scent was still exactly like she remembered. Their proximity, the darkness, the wine—probably the whole combination—made her feel bold. 

“Logan,” she whispered against his clavicle. “What are the odds that we’d run into each other like this, stranded in the same tiny airport in Iowa on Christmas?”

He shook his head and leaned down even closer to her. “It’s pretty crazy.”

“Maybe, like, the universe is trying to tell us something?”

“Or the Ghost of Christmas Present?” Even in the low light she could see his smirk as she shifted to look at him. 

She rolled her eyes, even though she was pretty sure he couldn’t see it. “Yes, exactly that.”

“So what is the universe saying?” He shifted towards her and traced the outline of her brow with a finger. His gentle touch sent tingles along her spine and it took everything she had not to lean into his hand. 

“Something about how we should be in each other’s lives again.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. 

“Like, friends?” His thumb ghosted lightly over her lips and he lowered his head so that his mouth was just inches away from hers now. 

Veronica opened her mouth to make another quip and she realized that they could keep doing this all night—banter and tease. It was an art form that they had spent years perfecting. And while they were good at it, like, gold medal good, she suddenly just didn’t want to, didn’t have the patience for it, anymore. So she gave in and did what she had been thinking about doing since she locked eyes with him in the airport. 

She kissed Logan Echolls. 

She meant for it to be a sweet, chaste kiss. A ‘welcome, old friend’ kiss and a ‘do we still have feelings for each other’ kiss—but as soon as their lips connected, fireworks went off in her belly and it was anything but sweet and chaste. There was no question about whether they still had feelings for each other. 

Logan had been an amazing kisser in high school, and it would have been highly unlikely for him to get worse at it over time. Nope, like a fine wine he only improved with age. He kissed her like she was beautiful, like she was oxygen, like she was the only one he ever wanted. 

She entwined her arms tightly around his neck and parted her lips to allow his tongue to slide inside. His hands cupped her face and held her close to him as they moved together. 

The kiss quickly turned from exploratory to desperate, full of desire and impatience. It hit her that it had been six years since she had kissed Logan, and while she had fantasized about him many times since, she’d told herself that she would never get to kiss him again. Over time she had convinced herself that she wasn’t remembering things correctly, that her imagination had been exaggerating —that he couldn’t really have been that great in bed. 

She was wrong. 

She fisted his t-shirt in her hands and moaned into his mouth. 

“Veronica. Oh, god,” he whispered against her neck as his lips slid to find that spot that always used to drive her crazy. She could feel the blood throbbing between her thighs—yeah, that spot still had the same effect. 

She sat up and pulled away from him to tug his shirt off over his head and gasped at the play of muscles along his back that she felt under her fingers. Damn the sexy firelight for hiding this view in the shadows. His body felt amazing. She slid her hands around to...yep, his washboard abs. She took back all her uncharitable thoughts about the snow, the airlines, and Clarinda, Iowa, because all of those things combined meant that she was getting to unwrap Logan Echolls’ U.S. Navy-certified incredible body for Christmas. 

She couldn’t help it. She let out another moan. 

Logan seemed to take this as encouragement and unzipped her hoodie, sitting up and peeling it off her arms. His hands immediately went to her breasts and even through the two layers of fabric there, his thumbs rubbing over her nipples sent shivers of pleasure through her body. 

He shifted back into the pillows and she moved to straddle his lap, forgetting about her blanket as he took off her tank top. He quickly unsnapped and discarded her bra, allowing her to press her breasts against his chest. The skin-to-skin sensation felt overwhelming and Veronica stopped, resting her forehead against his as she panted in the darkness. 

“Hey, you okay?” Logan asked, his hands resting on her waist, holding her close, anchoring her. 

She pulled back to see his eyes, dark in the glow from the fire. His expression was a mixture of concern and lust, and she just couldn’t go another six years without seeing that look again. 

“I’m way better than okay.” 

Veronica tangled her fingers in short hair at the nape of his neck —both prickly and soft at the same time—and pulled his mouth to hers again in a greedy kiss. Her hips rocked against him and she could feel his arousal rubbing her core. Logan’s hands were everywhere—on her breast and inching inside the waistband of her yoga pants. She had a brief moment of thankfulness for the lacy black underwear that she’d put on after her shower. Not like she planned on wearing it much longer, but still. 

Logan flipped them so that she was underneath him and he could capture her nipple in his mouth. It felt like he was timing the circles of his tongue with the throbbing in her veins. She spared a thought for the presumably thin walls and lack of ambient noise and tried to keep her moans quiet, but she held his head to her chest with one hand, panting, and used her other to tug at his pajama pants. 

He got the hint and rolled away from her, slipping off his pants and boxer briefs and tossing them to the floor. 

“Logan, the fireplace!” she hissed as he reached for her waistband.

He chuckled and stood up, grabbing his clothes and folding them into a neat pile, then setting them on his suitcase. She hoped he couldn’t hear her audible gasp as she took in the damn fine sight of his naked body. 

“Good point. While I’d like to metaphorically set this room on fire, doing it literally would be...inconvenient.”

“Agreed.” She bit her lip. “Um, while you’re up...do you have anything…” she trailed off but thankfully Logan knew what she was asking. 

“Boy Scout, remember?” He rooted around in his seabag and victoriously held up a long strip of condoms. 

She raised a sardonic brow. 

“I still don’t think you were a Boy Scout. And that,” she gestured at the number of condoms, “is very optimistic.”

“Six years is a long time to make up for, Veronica.” He tugged her pants and lacy underwear down over her legs and settled on top of her, nestling between her thighs. She shivered, suddenly cold, and grabbed one of the quilts from their pile on the bed, throwing it over him for warmth. 

He bobbed his eyebrows suggestively. “I’ll keep you warm.” 

He lowered his mouth to hers again and Veronica didn’t protest when the blanket slid off his back. 

Her heart was beating so fast she thought it might pound right out of her chest. Logan’s hardness pressed along her thigh and she was desperate to touch him. She moaned, feeling lightheaded and breathless as he sucked lightly on her neck. Snaking a hand between their bodies, she wrapped her fingers around his length. He let out a strangled groan, the sound sending a rush of warmth and wetness between her legs as she stroked him. 

“Mmm, please, Logan. I need you inside me now.”

He nodded eagerly and handed her one of the foil-wrapped packets that he had tossed on the bed beside them. Not breaking eye contact, she opened it with her teeth and was gratified by Logan’s sharp intake of breath. 

“Bobcat, I’ve missed you.” He flipped to his back and positioned her on top of him so that she was straddling him now. She rolled the condom down his length and rose up on her knees, sliding him inside her. 

Veronica let out a hiss of breath and took a moment to adjust to the absolutely overwhelming feeling of Logan inside her. His hands gripped her hips tightly, his breathing was labored. 

“Oh, god, Veronica. You feel so good.” His head lolled back against the pillows. His voice was low and raspy and the sound of it turned her on. She felt herself get even wetter. 

He moved his thumbs to stroke her clit, sending another sharp jolt of pleasure through her and she rocked her hips, pulling him deeper inside her. Her back arched and her fingers dig into her thighs, a soft moan escaping her lips as she rode out the incredible sensations flowing through her body. 

Logan rose up to capture one of her nipples in his mouth and that was all it took—her inner muscles clenched around him and she grabbed his shoulders, fingers digging into his flesh as her vision went white and waves of pleasure crested and flowed through her. She cried out—mostly nonsense, some swearing, and his name—and Logan began moving faster. His hands guided her hips and his strokes became erratic as her orgasm overtook her and his soon followed. 

After a moment, Veronica became aware of herself and began to giggle, burying her face in the crook of Logan’s shoulder. 

“Should I take that as a comment on the performance?” Thankfully his voice was teasing and not offended as he disengaged from her, rolling her onto her side and quickly running to the bathroom for a tissue to clean himself up. 

Stretched out on the bed on her side with her hand propping up her head, she unabashedly watched his shadowy figure and tried to suppress her laughter. 

“No, nothing like that. I just realized that I forgot to be quiet and I’m pretty sure our neighbors will figure out what we were doing.”

“Veronica, there’s a blizzard and a power outage. What else is there to do?” He climbed back into the bed and maneuvered her so that she was snuggled into his side. 

“Shhh, listen.” He held his finger up over her lips. They could hear a low moan coming from across the hallway. 

“I think we inspired them,” Logan whispered. 

She couldn’t help but giggle again. “Think we can out-moan them?” 

He reached around and picked up the long strip of condoms, forgotten on the bed next to her and waggled his eyebrows. “We can try all night.”

“Hey, Logan?” Veronica shifted on his chest so that she could look at him. “This isn’t what I planned—like, at all, but I’m really glad that I got you for Christmas.”

His eyes softened in the glow from the fire. “I’m glad, too. No returns or exchanges?”

“Nope.” She grinned at him. “I don’t want a refund.” 

Veronica curled around him, placing soft kisses on his chest. She was looking forward to round two (and three, and four…) and a future with Logan Echolls in it.

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks and holiday wishes to Heavenli24 for her awesome beta help :) Not only is she fabulous and patient when it comes to correcting my grammar and writing, she also has extensive knowledge of military aircraft and jargon. She informed me that large planes would not actually be diverted to land at a tiny airport for safety reasons, but she was willing to let it slide for the sake of the story. I hope you will, too!


End file.
